


halfway across

by valela



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Death in The Family, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics)
Genre: Batman just wants his son to be alive, Joker's view on their relationship is askew, M/M, References to Jason's death, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, We can't all have what we want, and to go home, the Joker wants his Bat to love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23123062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valela/pseuds/valela
Summary: The sirens blaring in the distance were getting closer and closer, their jarring sound disrupting the peace and quiet of the rain falling around them and softly mixing with peals of laughter they couldn’t help. Batsy had such beautiful laughter, deep and reach, like honey, coating and overlapping with the Joker’s high-pitched cackling.
Relationships: Batman & Joker, Joker/Batman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	halfway across

**Author's Note:**

> The Joker is very unreliable in how he perceives his relationship with Batman so try to discern what is really happening here and what's a part of the Joker's wishful thinking and sad gay pining. He may delude himself (maybe even willingly since he has some control over his own memories) but it doesn't make his feelings any less valid or real, even though they may not be reciprocated in any form.
> 
> This is my first work in the fandom as I’m just trying to find "my" Joker so please comment and be kind, English is my second language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Not beta-read!
> 
> If you want to truly feel the atmosphere of the first passages go look at the original coloring of the Killing Joke, it has some Van Gogh-like bittersweetness about it, especially as the light slowly dies out at their feet.
> 
> .
> 
> If you read The Killing Joke Noir Edition, you will see that there's a page heavy implying that the Joker: a) knows he's in a comic book, b) addresses you directly, c) can choose his own past -- the one he likes best

The sirens blaring in the distance were getting closer and closer, their jarring sound disrupting the peace and quiet of the rain falling around them and softly mixing with peals of laughter they couldn’t help. Batsy had such beautiful laughter, deep and reach, like honey, coating and overlapping with the Joker’s high-pitched cackling.

This tranquility was not a language they could speak, but if the Joker could he would learn it just to see his Bat smile at him like that, without any second thought, without wanting to beat him bloody, without any of their exquisite dance. Because the Joker had nothing but this, could not feel, could not _breathe_ until Batman tore at him with violence, chased him through the city. The Joker was a canvas, vast and empty, full of broken memories that might not even be true, and he let Batman color him however he liked, his hypersensitive skin welcoming hard punches and shoves.

His lovely Batsy was like him but was different, desperately tried to fit in and failed. It made the Joker really sad and angry that his Batsy had to hide the darker parts of him from the world and that gaggle of Robins he collected. The Joker let him be himself, and Batman knew that it didn’t matter how hard he hit or pushed (it took times for the broken skin and bones to heal and mend, and as soon as they did the Joker escaped the Arkham Asylum again and again), didn’t matter that he dumped his enemy at the Asylum’s doorstep, the Joker would be back to terrorize the city in no time. It was how they worked all these years, how they functioned, it was in every step the Joker took, in his blood pulsing in his veins, in his breath. And now Batman wanted to upset the balance not realizing what he would lose as a result.

For a shameful moment of weakness, the Joker wanted to reach out, to take the hand offered freely and to accept the offer. But he needed to be the bigger man, to stop this from escalating further, so he couldn’t. And so he didn’t. What is Batman without the Joker keeping him on his toes, running ahead and taking the lead, always being there to commit some horrendous crime, always there to be stopped? No, no, no. Batman couldn’t exist without him, they were two halves that needed each other.

Did Batman even realize what he was asking? There would be no Joker, nothing to entertain his stupid Batsy, just an empty shell. But, just for a second, he wanted to, the desire fierce and burning deep inside like relentless fire, consuming and dangerous. So he did the next best thing he could think of, he told a joke, hoping that Batsy would understand. He couldn’t put it into words, but Batman would surely read between the lines. _Don’t you ever turn off your flashlight on me, Batsy. Not when we’re still dancing. Not when you’re standing on solid ground and I’m halfway across. Please._

Batman got it, of course he did, he was smart like that, his Bat. In time he will understand that the Joker existed for him and his benefit, could breathe fully only after escaping from Arkham and running through half the city.

The rain kept tap-tap-tapping on the windshield in a steady rhythm and apart from the engine soaring to life now and then it was quiet in the Batmobile, the kind of quiet the Joker sometimes earned for in the dead of night. He couldn’t understand why Batsy didn’t like their games or their dance which made the Joker’s blood run faster and his heart sing in his chest. Something about crowbars and dead birds? The Joker couldn’t remember now, he did once but it didn’t really matter if he forgot, it couldn’t be that important, right?

Except the Bat looked — more angry and sad than ever. He laughed at the park, he did, and he was so beautiful at that moment! But now he seemed to regret it, like laughing with the Joker and sharing a joke was something shameful, regretful, to be kept a dirty secret.

The Joker hated the way he couldn’t choose an ending and a beginning, the way he switched from comedian to gangster to something else and in the process he lost a part of his Batsy — something important, it now seemed, something preventing his Batsy from enjoying their fights.

Sometimes the Joker dreamed of a loyal boy with dark hair matted with blood. Of broken bones and screams. The boy always turned into a bird in his dream — into a robin with broken wings. The bird always died in the end — because the Joker held him in his hands and squeezed too hard. Or broken its neck. Or sometimes gassed it with the Joker venom or stuffed it in his pocket and forgot…

But Batman _did_ laugh at the joke, didn’t he? Because he understood?

And now they were parked in front of the entrance to the Asylum and they set in silence, heavy and suffocating. It wasn’t right, no, it wasn’t right at all. Didn’t Batsy have an annoying boy trailing after him wherever he went? Where’d he go? The Joker would’ve loved to play with him and to make him scream. It was strange. And what about Batgirl? She usually followed Batman around as well. The Joker didn’t see her today. Where was everyone, why was Batsy not happy in his company if he was alone?

What was that bird he dreamed of last night? A robin? Or was it a different bird every time — a different bird for a different Joker? Yes, perhaps all Batsy needed was a —

— that night the Joker dreamed of birds again. But his Batsy was there and he didn’t let the Joker kill them. He held them in his arms — three different birds — and they flew away and left Batman alone in the darkness. And Batman smiled like the Joker had never seen before, like he was glad and happy to help them get away as far as they could and never come back.

Or maybe it was never about the stupid birds. Maybe it —

— Batsy’s smile was nice even if it was a dream. After tonight the Joker knew how it felt when Batsy smiled _at_ him and laughed _with_ him. At his joke, no less!

Yes, next time they meet, the Joker will tell Batman a tale about a dead bird — a dead robin. How it wanted to fly away and leave Batsy in the dark, alone, but the Joker broke its wings so that it couldn’t and then broke its neck so that it wouldn't.

Yes, a dead robin. Batman will like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! You can come and talk to me about the Joker stuff at my [tumblr](http://lei-aj.tumblr.com/) and ask for a prompt or find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/leiajajaj)!


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